


Obituary

by MyMisguidedFairytale



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Acceptance, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Chimera Ant Arc, F/M, Feelings, Medical Procedures, One Shot, Selfishness, literary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 08:53:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18807847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyMisguidedFairytale/pseuds/MyMisguidedFairytale
Summary: What if Cheadle had been the one to put the Miniature Rose in Netero’s chest?





	Obituary

**Author's Note:**

> _Obituary_ was originally written and published on September 24, 2014 on [tumblr](https://cheadle-yorkshire.tumblr.com/post/98274724957/fanfiction-hunter-x-hunter-obituary).
> 
> Everything below is preserved as it was originally posted:
> 
> **Title** : Obituary  
>  **Pairing** : Pariston x Cheadle if you squint.  
>  **Word Count** : 1118  
>  **Summary** : What if Cheadle had been the one to put the Miniature Rose in Netero’s chest?  
>  **A/N** : I was originally intending to do another drabble extravaganza for HxH Week, but I’m really busy so it looks like this is all I can do for the moment. Used the ‘relationship’ prompt for today. Story contains spoilers for the Chimera Ant Arc. I hope you enjoy!

__

_**Obituary** _

When Pariston Hill enters the medical suite, Cheadle Yorkshire is packing up for the day. There have been many supplies to put away and instruments to disinfect, and she has put off the majority of the work for her unwillingness to face the finality of such an act. But when the last drawer closes and the stainless steel workstation is once again free and clear, Pariston pushes his way past the doors with a timing that couldn’t be more perfect if he had scheduled it with her in advance.

“I understand Chairman Netero made an appointment with you.” He gets right to the matter without preamble, but Cheadle is still taken aback by the urgency in his voice. “If there was something serious enough to bring him back in the middle of his mission…if he had any kind of medical emergency…” He pauses, as if to recollect himself. “I cannot reach him by phone, and I need to speak to him immediately. If not him, then you. Tell me what is wrong.”

Her hands clench themselves into fists underneath the table. If only she could speak, but the Chairman had forbidden her from mentioning the procedure. If only she could mention that while nothing is wrong with _him_ , something is very, very wrong indeed, to necessitate a thing as barbaric as implanting a bomb in a person’s chest.

“That’s classified,” she begins, but Pariston cuts her off.

“I’m the Vice-Chair! Nothing is classified to me.”

“Patient medical records are.” She holds his glare with a steely one of her own, and stands from her chair; with no pretext of work to busy herself with to shut him out, she is unwilling to let him continue to lean over her like he is, using the disparity in their heights to try and intimidate an answer out of her.

“If it was so serious he should not be leaving.” He shoots Cheadle a look, and walks around the table, folding his arms behind him. “Is it?”

She breathes in her hesitation, and he frowns at her, before turning and showing her his back.

“Don’t lie to me, Cheadle.”

Her plan had been to say nothing at all, but even that was giving her away. When faced with an interrogator as smooth as Pariston, better to give half the truth than none at all.

Slowly, she swallows, and when she speaks she surprises herself by the calmness in her voice. “The _situation_ he’s entering is serious. But there is no medical problem to speak of. Whatever it is you think, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” And he turns, and when they look at one another Cheadle realizes, with a sinking heart, that whatever hope she holds is dashed to pieces by the sheer despondency Pariston wears as visibly as the gray and lavender suit on his body. Just one look, and in that moment they both understand one another perfectly.

She doesn’t want to look at her hands. The hands that had held a scalpel so carefully only the day before now tremble at her side.

“I asked to accompany him, you know,” he says, and Cheadle finds herself nodding.

“So did I.” It doesn’t even need to be said. Pariston had been there, after all, when all of the present Zodiacs had erupted into a fervor, demanding the right to a place on his team. And he had refused every one of them. While the news that Pariston had been the first to offer does not surprise her–although he had been uncharacteristically quiet during that particular meeting, she remembers–the fact that he’s choosing to share like this with her is surprising.

“When does his airship leave?”

“Tomorrow,” she answers smoothly.

He had been awake during the procedure, she wants to tell him. She hadn’t cried–that had come later, after her apprentice Sanbica departed Cheadle had slumped to the floor in the corner of the operating room and pulled off the latex gloves covered to the elbow with dried blood. Netero had left soon after the completion of the operation, simply pulled the edge of his shirt down over the bandages and walked out, unfazed. It still felt like he was in the room–the combination of aura and blood and the echo of his voice after she had explained to him exactly how the detonation could be initiated. A single jab to the heart, to stop his pulse. He had responded: “ _One is all I need. My opponent may be able to escape my one hundred hands, but not this one_.” He tapped a point above his heart with a single index finger before he turned to the hands that had just finished stitching up his chest. “ _Nor these_.”

She wants to tell Pariston this, but she holds her tongue.

For once in her life she is selfish, and does not want to share that even in their darkest moment Netero had needed her for something so important; that _she_ was important; that this task was something only she could do and would be left to no other. That the bomb now ticking away inside his ribcage, sewn up and bandaged and hidden away beneath flesh and cloth had been placed there by her hands and was known to only them. She would have gladly stood by his side in that battle. She wishes one day to be so honorable. To change the landscape of the world with the strength of her ideals and the force of an explosion.

A horrible taste fills her mouth. And the truth that she and Pariston had shared when they locked eyes returns brighter than ever. _He is going to die_ , it says, stifling the air she struggles to breathe, _and there is nothing you can do about it_. It could even be said that she had even helped to facilitate his impending death.

And like it had felt to share that moment with Netero, she feels the same profound selfishness sharing a similar one with Pariston. They both know that much, although it has not been said in words. She has never been very good at hiding her emotions, and he has always been able to unearth hers with the barest of effort. She feels, suddenly, a hint of contrition.

"I lied to you,” she tells him, daring one quick look at his eyes. Although there is a fondness in the way he smiles at her, his eyes are devoid of any warmth. She relaxes the tight hold of her fists, feeling her arms dangling loosely at her sides, and imagines them coming up to form the basis of a prayer, palms pressed together in a hundred different formations.

“I know,” he says.

The airship is already gone.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I thought of this while watching episode…145? The one where Ging and Cheadle have that conversation. It seemed like there was some context there we were missing, from Cheadle’s perspective, and I thought it would add a deeper level of meaning if she had been the one to perform that operation. It certainly would have required someone very medically proficient, and Cheadle’s one of the best.
> 
> 2\. I’m also of the opinion that Sanbica is Cheadle’s apprentice, since as a 3-star Cheadle must have an apprentice who is at least a 1-star Hunter, and Sanbica is the best candidate to me. 
> 
> 3\. Thank you for reading! I would appreciate and value your comments.


End file.
